Your Dispraportionate Gaze...

Katherine Skye

 

 

You are in a field...

an aged wind is blowing.

You hear nothing...

but the thud of grass blade against blade,

and a whistling far away...

deep in the forest ahead of you,

you stare into the lilac gloom...

feel the last heat of the day touching your shoulders,

and quite suddenly...

you hear music,

the smallest of lively tunes...

jaunty and haunting in lure,

it calls to you and you walk into the woods....

 

You travel on,

through echoing darks...

and a chaos of tangled vines,

you reach a clearing...

beside a stream,

silent and grey...

and beside it stands a man,

who leans against a tall bar table...

upon which rests a gramophone.

He turns to look at you...

as the music warbles on,

and you see his wolf-like eyes glint...

beneath the glass lenses he wears,

A feathered hat sits at an angle on his head...

and a fine royal purple coat,

 drapes his shoulders...

he grins the smallest of canine grin,

and lifts a lavender teacup...

to his lips,

for a drink.

 

 

He offers you a silent salute...

and then whispers these words to you;

 

'A day is coming,

soon...

soon.

Our time is slipping away to ashes...

and burning the fine leather off our souls,

we watch the storms gather...

and we break the glass amidst the rain,

but...

I have a message to give to you,

for you see...

the Sinister Meeting Room,

has sent me unto thee...

so heed.

We are falling slowly...

and with it our hearts,

and we are waiting for the blade...

but,

it is an...

invitation of sorts,

that I bring from your comrades...

at the Sinister Meeting Room.'

 

'A day or two hence,

thee must wait for the deepest of darkness...

be it shadow or gloom,

blackness of storm or night...

delve within it,

and take with you an old watch,

and watch your clock...

wait for the loudest,

most slow tick...

and stamp upon the ground,

bring up the dust...

and chant the words;

'Live me...

Live they.'

Close thy eyes and spin around...

Open them again and throw the watch down,

smash it beneath thy feet...

and wait for,

the Sinister Meeting Room's call.'

 

The man whispers to you...

tThat all we really are is white elephants,

we tiptoe about trying to hide the greatness within us...

when really we are elephants,

meant to be magnificent...

and free,

and beautiful...

and intelligent,

yet even now...

a murk has invaded our land,

and we must ward our minds against it.

 

Wait for the call...

and watch not the hours,

but the tender gears and cogs of our clocks...

and may we reach everything before our world,

crumbles.

 

For a day is coming,

soon...

soon.'

 

  That particular tale is devoted to the curious character I met in the strangest of bars...far away in a forest. We wait, and we watch and we listen.

   I hope you are all flying ahead of your storm, with the wind behind you and new wings upon your back. Take it away.

   Much Love,

     Miss CLScarlett xx



 

 

 

The Whisper in the Deep Blue...



We stand on the cliff edge...

stare into the swirling abyss,

we scream into the wind and storm...

we fall to our knees,

beat our hands until they bleed...

until there's nothing left ,

but bleeding bones and silt...

 

We dreamt that our wings were torn off,

and that barbed ropes,

were placed about our wrists...

we were paraded and possessed,

they fed our memories...

to the memory sharks.

 

We differentiate between madness...

and chaos,

and in the end...

whose the clown?

 

One night past ten...

I heard the call,

heard the Rain Wolf Relshka...

madly howl through a crack in the door.

 

 

 

I went out into the pouring rain...

hid myself in the shadows and mint,

and repeated my name backwards...

I dug in the wet soil,

and cracked my fingers against the stone...

tore up the moss-worn roots,

and dislodged all the stones... 

I found something that glinted silver,

and the briefest shades of blue...

a case with the symbol of a seahorse,

rusted and cold as ice...

dirty in hue.

 

I saw Relshka materialise...

out of the rain and wind,

I saw him bow his head to me...

and his eyes glowing faded green,

he bade me open the box...

Within and laid against timber,

stood a teacup...

a bowl of sand,

and a clock...

I looked up to ask,

what they were for...

what I should do,

yet already the breeze had whisked him away.

 

I knew however...

what had to be done,

I threw the sand...

into the blizzard within the teacup,

and dropped the timepiece inside...

I stared into the depths of that wilderness,

and saw some images on the sly...

 

 

 

A growling that rose from beneath the ground,

a single brown feather...

lost in the grey dirt,

a million small boats...

lost in a raging cyclone,

and the stripped leaves of an Oak tree.

 

All are swept away...

in the ashes of the wind.

 

True Time.

Chime...

 

We are lost...

we weaved a space through the cosmos,

and hammered out patterns in the Heaven's...

we built bridges through the dimensions,

and held council with celestial beings...

The Sun burnt symbol's upon our hearts,

and our bones were ground to dust...

we wore the cloaks,

of disillusion-unwise...

and despaired,

even as we persevered...

through our swamps.

 

We answered the call long ago...

and sometimes we wish,

that we had had the strength...

to cut our ears from us,

when we found out...

what was coming.

 

There was however...

no stopping it,

and time has a hand...

in our lives.

 

So we dance and dancedancedancedance....

 

A mouse opened its' eye,

a great Queen decided to cry...

a myth became a terror,

and the strangest of hands...

have choked us dead.

Now we are the river.

 

 

 

 

 

  I work, write and sleep each day away...right now I'm staring at and feeling a world of trees. Trees made from golden and green light and a wind that sounds like the ocean.

 

   One day very very soon...I'm going to be free of all these shackles. Free to live my life in a different way.

   My book becoming published has been put on hold for now, until I can afford the cost of getting the story professionally proofread.

 

   I hope you are all finding peace of some kind today.

 

go ripzinma oxpsu... (New Rubaleen)

 

 

 

  I love you all....

 

 

Miss CLScarlett xx

 



Black Butterflies...

The Winter Trail has Ended...

 

 

I follow the Autumn leaves,

down the pale road...

and I see mirrors in the buildings,

by my side...

 

In some it shows,

not me...

not our now-daerk eyes,

no...

it shows faces,

millions of other faces...

strange grey beaches,

where black-haired creatures crawl...

where the ocean sings softly,

through the jetties...

where houses warped by time and salt,

hum with a thousand tiny bells...

Cruel lands where man, woman and child,

were caught in a waking dream...

and lost.

 

 

I turn from the mirrors,

travel on...

past empty rooms,

and lonely songs...

one tune I follow up an alleyway,

I glimpse a gramophone...

old and dusty,

and the wink of bright eyes...

hidden behind,

a hear the softest of mad drumbeats...

and the slinky movement of a figure,

there in the shadows...

the wicked grin of wolf teeth.

We flee from the alley...

and out onto the street,

We walk on...

we feel the hearts,

decaying in our chests...

and we wrap time closely about us,

and rest.

The morrow day...
we strap on our wings...
stand up in the cold dawn,
and draw our swords...
we grin our crooked smiles,
into the howling wind of sunrise...
raise our feathers wide,
and leap into the gold.

 

 

 

  Set free the Black Butterflies dearests...

 

Much Love,

   Always...

 

Miss CLScarlett xx

 



The Labyrinth of Your Chaos

 

Lost in the labyrinth of your chaos...

 

I stand and listen to the steam train in the distance,

it comes for me and I wait...

 

I see the leaves crawling with the wind,

and the dust tracing patterns in the souls of my shoes...

 

I see the ocean always crazy and steaming now,

roaring louder by the day and invading my street...

 

I listen to the beasts of this labyrinth,

roar and shriek...

 

I listen to them eat.

 

I took his hand the other night...

and raced through a million rooms,

now I board the steam train of disillusion...

 

I travel the rails to a distant noon,

But before the long lines...

before I let the world fade behind me,

one more stop the conductor says...

 

I leave the train one last time,

for a month...

maybe two,

I toil beneath the ground...

and in emptiness,

before I break these iron shackles...

board the train,

glue on my wings...

take off my shoes,

and allow my hair to become blue once more.

 

The steam train leaves...

and finally arrives at a dock,

it whistles me across the ocean...

as my mind unravels into,

the land of the everlasting noon.

 

Much Love,

   Miss CLScarlett xx

 

The Devourer and the Broken Ocean...

 

 

 

No Fear...

 

We were called,

late one Tuesday passed...

and we came.

 

From our awnings...

 and between the cracks in the buildings,

dragging our limbs up and out...

of the mud of the earth,

we open our black and leaking eyes...

and turn in the direction of the call.

 

The streets of this city are battered dusk...

and the weapons they trail and hide,

they plan to plunge into our hearts...

we walk the ice,

hear it crack and break beneath us...

and our bones splintering astep,

a great fog has taken this land...

its' people and us,

we both grow far...

 

It is the sickness of brain,

a bog of thoughts...

we fear it will consume,

us tonight...

if we do not answer the call.

 

We follow it to an alley by the docks...

and the sea water laps at our feet,

centuries ago it flooded these streets...

grew mould upon the cobblestones,

and allowed the ocean monsters a gateway in...

We see a gnarled figure with long long teeth standing,

beside a pipe that rises from the docks...

ankle deep in water,

he beckons to us...

in a voice like the thunder and soot.

 

'Wingless Children...

of mud and bone,

we waited...

as long as could be waited,

as the ocean's devoured each other...

and the wind devoured them,

as everything devoured everything else...

I thought to devour you too,

but now you see...

there is nothing left in this world,

for us to devour...

and we would allow you to pass,

if only to find someone still with light...

so that we may devour it.

We sense it...

the last light,

waiting across and beneath the sea...

for we cannot tolerate it,

and must create the last piece of darkness of it instead,

of thisss....

we have decided.'

 

 

 

My Brethren and I...

we stole past the gnarled figure,

felt his claws and long teeth press against and taste us...

a million hands where we saw only one.

We descended into the pipe...

and deep down,

 beneath the darkness of the sea...

all sound cut off,

but for the murmuring...

and the press of alien limbs,

 against the tunnel we now found ourselves in...

We bound ourselves together,

and travelled forward...

into the weaving shadows,

and towards the light we could sense...

pressing against our heart.

 

We travelled for aeons...

for days and centuries and seconds,

and bit by bit...

the walls of the dark tunnel told us stories of the world.

 

They told us of twelve islands,

between two dark shores...

they told us of a sickness that had taken that land,

of how it once had shone like the sun...

its' lands garnished with gems,

and richness of earth...

marvellous creatures,

that wove and sung...

Kings and Queens that rose and fell,

legends and hopes...

that faded as the sickness crept more,

yet now all lies barren and wounded...

except that which we seek to hold,

and carry back to our destroyer...

for him to drink deep of its' soul.

 

[santosmulder.tumblr.com]

 

 

Eventually we found the light...

in the furthest nook,

of the smallest end of the tunnel...

The tiniest of golden birds,

glimmering with light...

inside a black cage.

 

We took the last light...

within our twisted hands,

and stole back the way we had come...

we fell in love ,

with its' colour and life...

we thought perhaps he would let it go,

That we would be allowed to keep it.

 

We were naïve...

we were so foolish,

We crept out of the pipe...

and handed to the gnarled figure,

the last light...

the tormentor dug its' teeth deep,

into the birds' neck...

we saw its' light trailing out,

and felt the world and us...

sinking with it,

 

We knew that once he'd finished...

he'd drink from us as well,

bring us to our knees...

while whispering endearing words.

So we waited for our death.

 

 

 

It was then however...

that the devourer he froze,

and time began to unwind...

we saw cracks begin to appear,

upon his face and hands...

a pulsing golden light,

dripped forth from between the fractures...

and piece by piece,

he crumbled into dust.

 

It was so quick...

and it was so sudden,

and even as dying the devourer lashed out at us...

he killed some of us,

and tore out the centre of my heart...

The last light overcame him,

and became the most fiercest of stars...

when at last the devourer lay dying,

and we saw the darkness begin to creep away...

we felt our weights,

falling off...

and the most colourful of scales,

slide there instead.

 

 

 

We are creatures of the eternal star now...

and we find our strength returning every day,

we watch the monsters return to their depths...

and the land begins to sing once more.

 

 

 

 

   Hey there dear creatures,

 

    I have been nibbled away by the leviathans and Krakens of Huntington. Now he takes the form of a being I knew...and still he won't let me go. Hope you are all conquering your own leviathans.

 

 

   Much Love,

 

Miss CLScarlett xx

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Squat Angel's....



I'm still lost in the dreams...

It's hard to pull my head from the dreams anymore and,

still I see the faded lights of the Cities...

and the ice-cold wind,

we road through with thin woollen jumpers...

bicycles whirring beneath us,

and miles of rugged coast unwinding beside us.

We met them...

The Squat Angels,

-

[and I hope you don't mind Loralai, I used your words...and they will always be yours...]

were the real angels of the city of Anaheim,

but as they told us...

they were merely wanderers of Los Angeles,

Punk Rock creations...

They took us beneath their mechanical wings,

 in the side alleys and streets...

with their unravelling clothes,

and beautiful features...

coloured hair,

dark symbols and a lostness...

that had long-ago tattooed their eyes.

Their heart...

the three crazy Kings of Her,

took my sunglasses off...

and we saw in our eyes a reflection of ourselves,

She wears the same clothes I do...

and in this land they stare at her and her friends in horror,

as though they were monsters...

not Lost Angels.

I left my heart behind there with them...

You...

with your black and yellow stockings,

darkling symbols...

screw through your ear,

and green in your hair and eyes.

The colours and ancients lit our way...

We saw the darks and shades of Huntington,

I felt the hold of their Irish warlord men...

I discovered life fearless and unburdened,

and felt a fury all the way down to my core and dread...

Splintering wood,

bruised knuckles and knees...

dying spirit,

tears...

we drank high on the spirits,

and raced thoughts and memories to the forbidden beaches...

With a jester king,

dark eyed and with a voice like the blues...

we released golden lanterns,

up towards the four a.m. moon.

We created for ourselves a dream life...

smoke drifting over railings,

hunting for treasure...

becoming lost again and again,

in fantasies and pulsing images.

One night I dreamed a dream...

Two lilac gazelles,

falter together on a dark African plain...

the sun deeply setting purple.

The gazelles flee forward,

with a movement like liquid...

and catapult themselves into the darkening skyy,

they dart up and up...

becoming instead,

fabulous blue and gold comets...

that dart about the sky,

exploding eventually...

 into a million smaller gazelles with wings,

who then transform into a million foxes...

with their great tails swaying,

dancing in time to the music.

Wherever the music went...

the images followed,

until eventually...

I became.

Lost.

I found Heart Breaker.

I saw again...

the light that could be in me,

in the smallest of derelict shops...

I found in there,

a golden rose...

an ancient beast,

and a sleeping Cheshire...

the smallest of shell earrings,

and the living image of Santa Klaus...

we talked for ages,

talked about darkness and Brilliance...

shared the pieces of whole left in our souls,

though later the darkness reminded me again...

that we can perhaps always be freed,

almost certainly be hinged and bound...

and broken to pieces eternally,

you stop sleeping...

because you fear the nightmares,

you start the vices....

because you want to block,

the darkness in your mind...

through each sip,

but all that unravelled...

with a slow spelling of time,

as the laces and twine unlatched...

and I began to see the world again.

Only problem is deary,

you dream so much of that other breathing life...

that this life you live here in transit,\

has become the real dream.

Wake us up when this coming month is over.

   Much Love,

 Always.

     It seems to me that all that Fate does it take things away from me, and each time I think he'll just let me live in peace...he fires another shot into my gut, head and heart. One day...I won't come back. One day...I won't wake up from his next blow. One day...all of me left will be gone.

   Miss CLScarlett xx

P.S. I have spent the last twelve days in incredible New Zealand, LA, Huntington Beach and Anaheim. Four absolutely marvellous locations. Here, by the way...is some advice we desperately should have known before we left to go to the States:

    - Go to Galaghers, the Irish Bar in Huntington Beach. They have all delights you need under the sun, cheap drinks and live music. The most liveliest part of the whole Beach with great food too.

   -  Go to TK's on the beach, right before The Hyatt (believe me, you won't miss this place) . It's covered in bizzaro stickers, surf photos and gargoyles and is right beside an old green beach house for sale. It sells the cheapest and best burgers and French fries this side of here.

  - Do not trust anyone named James near Galaghers.

  - Make sure that you use a card instead of cash. It's a pain and a half to change currency in America outside of the airport.

  - DO NOT go onto the beach after ten p.m. If you get caught you get a $10 000 fine.

  - Loitering is a fine worth $1000.

  - If you are looking for ANYTHING ask the street people.

  Hope everyone get's to experience Huntington Beach one day. Live a little and dream a lot. Remember people like Walt Disney XD.

   xx

 

We Stumbled in the Snow...

 

 

My time I measure through the clinking of bottles...

and the shadows that curl in the corners,

marking out each hour and second...

inside my head,

 

 

 

I sat in the darkness of a shadow the other night...

and I tipped fluorescent green down my throat,

I felt it buzz my heart into flame...

and I pressed my ear-wings against the cement wall,

I saw the stars move...

and heard the city unwind its' secrets for me,

a sea of treetops and neon signs...

and just me,

you feel no hand grasping your wrist...

and nothing changing you,

or adapting you...

it is merely a silence and a doorway opening,

to someplace...

Other.

 

 

 

 

We are netted up by the darkest of strings...

and we feel anew the weight of our wingsourwingsourwings,

and so we dance until our feet bleed and break...

we speak nonsense to disguise the truth,

and we stare at the monsters through the corridors...

There is a place,

broken and shattered...

where red lies in tatters amongst shards of glass,

cracked shell lights...

You can know a story for so long,

that eventually it is more real than breath...

 

You search for answers amongst the dust,

and the half-fragments of memory...

have you ever realized that there aren't enough memories?

Not for what we need...

not for us.

 

You search deep into your mind...

and maybe the seeking churns up something,

maybe something sees the wound and strikes a bargain...

with you,

or not...

and then it binds and swarms and catapults,

like a creature of myth from under your bed...

and suddenly you are bound in it,

running through the hallways it has made...

and hiding beneath blankets it has knit,

sometimes...

you can't get back out,

sometimes...

you are only running in place,

and sometimes...

you forget that you are already dead.

 

We tick slowly byyyy...

 

Stop.

 

Imagine instead that your feet are standing in the softest sand imaginable.

 

No wait...

 

Close your eyes.

 

 

 

Feel something soft beneath your feet...

and the pounding of warm waves in the distance,

a gentle breeze on your neck...

blowing away the darkness and cold inside of you,

you open your eyes...

see a deep sky of blue as far as your sight can reach,

you taste the salt in the air...

and smell something like caramel on the wind,

you walk forward...

up a gentle ridge in the pale sand.

 

You cross the rise and stop...

a clear ocean lays swaying before you,

a couple of breaks rock to your far right...

while a row of colourful long boards stand waiting,

to your far left...

way down the end of the beach,

a hut built of old timber, straw and mud sits against the cliff...

straight ahead of you,

is a great wooden jetty...

it creaks its' way out into the ocean.

 

Fastened to the very end of the jetty...

is a small yacht,

and beside the yacht stands a figure...

almost impossible to make out,

yet strangely familiar...

 

What would you do eh?

 

Maybe you would ride the breaks until dawn the next week...

maybe you would stop by the hut,

see why it smells so much like warmth and caramel...

Maybe you would live there awhile.

 

Each day you would see the figure waiting...

and each day you would wonder,

and then maybe one day...

you turn from your fears and what you've known,

and you walk down to the end of that jetty...

you find that the figure is someone that you know,

and have been waiting for in some remote part of your being...

you step onto the boat with them and slowly sail away,

to someplace...

Other.

 

 

 

That boat will always wait for you...

you are never too late.

 

 

The smallest of sounds...

curling in the darkness,

the most tiny of wrens...

battering itself against its reflection,

and the most skeletal of seahorses...

whispering through my dreams.

 

Thank-you for your Admittance...

the Theatre is now currently,

Closed.

 

 

   Hey there...

    Long time...no speak.

My life has gone flat-out insane lately...it's almost my 22nd year on Earth and I'm preparing to send my book off to proofreading, then to the publishers. I have only hope...because I know it can happen.

  Don't give up your dreams or accept a life that they design for you.

Miss CLScarlett xx